


There is a Heart in Me

by codeineandkeanu



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Angst, Angsty John Wick, BAMF John Wick, Continental Hotel (John Wick), F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lost Love, Not Canon Compliant, Old Flames, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-John Wick (2014), Pre-John Wick (2014), Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, reignited love, soft John Wick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codeineandkeanu/pseuds/codeineandkeanu
Summary: Watching it unfold in third person on a small screen was like watching something from a movie. You had replayed the scene over in your mind a thousand times before, wondering if it had ever happened at all or if it had been a fever dream.It was so real.It was so real that your heart hurt.
Relationships: John Wick/Original Female Character(s), John Wick/Reader, John Wick/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. The Impossible Task.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying a new fic! Let me know what you think of this one!  
> CW for sexual assault and smut (so soon?)!

_Impulsive. Hasty. Reckless._

The words rang in your ears and echoed in your mind as they talked about the incident. Talked about you, over you, around you; anything but _to_ you.

The office was dimly lit, cigarette smoke hung stale in the air. You stood at the foot of the desk while several men stared you down.

“I’ll be better.” You said, shedding yourself from any emotions that you may have felt in that moment. Just the way you were taught.

“A lame mule would be better.” A voice from the corner of the room mumbled, though not quietly enough that you didn’t hear it and you wondered if that was intentional or not. In hindsight; you didn’t really care.

This time Viggo stood and spoke.

Viggo Tarasov, who had looked after you since you were a child, when you were just a little girl with a dead Daddy, a Daddy who was Viggo’s closest friend, a Daddy who had eventually double crossed him.

Surprisingly, Viggo didn’t have it in his heart to kill a twelve year old girl, and so he told you that your Daddy had been killed in a motorcycling accident. You trained under Viggo from the day he took you in.

You’d believed Viggo’s story until seven years ago, when Viggo’s arrogant biological son decided to tell you the truth of the matter on your twenty-sixth birthday. That same year, you were gifted a handgun from a colleague, and it took every inch of your will not to empty the magazine into Iosef’s stupid face.

“You know, Y/N, I have done what I can for you. I have given you chances. This is the second. This time, you have cost me a lot of money. Who is going to pay me back?”

You spoke to Viggo and only to Viggo, you didn’t feel the need to answer to anyone else. “I’ll make it up to you. I will.”

“I have done what I have done for your father, but if there is another mistake like this, I won’t be able to justify it – even in his memory. You’re dismissed, wait outside. Iosef, go with her.”

It was cold that night, blinking lights fluttered in the distance over the city and beyond. This was Tarasov territory, and you walked the walk better than most at times. Only lately things had felt different, like you were only good at one thing; killing.

You leant up against the cold wall, outing your frustration in a sigh. Iosef joined you, he lit up a cigarette and handed one to you.

“Do you know what they’re calling you?” A stupid grin was painted on Iosef’s face as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“Do I look like I care?” You wished he was somewhere else.

“ _The Oshibka._ Know what that means? It means _The Error_.”

You scoffed and shook your head before tutting and biting your lip contemplatively. “I’m not even Russian for fuck sake.”

“You’ve just turned thirty-three and you still act thirteen, you know? You’re so bitter. You should be happy to finally have a nickname.” Iosef was always one to criticize, it seemed to be what he enjoyed the most, and yet he had achieved anything noteworthy in all the years you’d known him.

“I can’t help but be bitter when they only see what I do wrong.” Groaning, you blew smoke in his face, hoping he would get the message.

“There’s a simple solution to that. Stop doing shit wrong.”

“I’m not taking advice from Daddy’s boy.” You threw your cigarette on the ground after taking one last draw and straightened up to walk away from him, but Iosef slammed his hand against your chest and held you against the wall.

“I would carve your face if you were anyone else.” He spat, a rage brewing in his eyes, the same kind that little boys get when they play video games and they lose.

You grinned. “So _try it_ , see where that gets you.”

“I have been like a brother to you – “

“Yet you sit and laugh at me from their table. No Iosef, you’re nothing but a spineless bully and you only get away with it because Viggo is your father.” You cut him off, speaking over him loudly.

“My Father is your boss, so watch your tongue. You lay a finger on me and I’ll have your hands cut off…” Iosef’s hand reached between your legs and grabbed tightly, “Call me spineless now, _suka_.”

No man would touch you and get away with it lightly, your hand found his throat and your knee his groin, and with a thud and a stained yell, Iosef crumpled in a heap on the floor.

“Don’t fucking test me.” You spat at him, the heel of your boot finding his fingers on the ground and crushing them into the dirt like a used cigarette. “You ever try to grab my pussy again and I’ll bite your fingers off one by one, you little –“

“ _Y/N_ ” Viggo stood in the doorway, looming like a great shadow.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath.

“What has my son done this time?” His voice bellowed, echoing off the building. Iosef looked up pitifully from the ground.

“He needs to learn to keep his hands to himself.” You growled, shooting him a look before stepping away.

“Maybe I should deal with these little disagreements in future, and decide what kind of punishment Iosef is deserving of.” It sounded like a suggestion, but from Viggo it was an order. “Iosef, get up and get out of my sight.”

Viggo paused for a moment, watching his son as he brushed himself off and went back inside, when the door closed, he spoke again.

“I am sorry for today, Y/N. You know I think that you’re an excellent marksman, one of the best. You just aren’t fit to be a leader, you lack the finesse, you think with your trigger finger.”

Your tone softened and you protested, “I’m stronger and faster than anyone you have now, Viggo.”

“I know, but you are naïve. I would have cut anyone else loose for the same mistakes you have made, you can see why I’m under a lot of pressure. From now on, you will second, and you will listen to your first.” Viggo declared.

You murmured disapprovingly, “It’s bullshit.”

His voice raised, “It’s how you stay alive. I will have no more of this insolence.”

“Fine.” Defeated, you sighed and nodded. 

“Oh, and Y/N, a gentle warning. I know my son is a fool, but the next time I see you put hands on him…” Viggo shook his head and pursed his lips. He had nothing more to say.

You took some downtime over that weekend, keeping yourself busy at the archery range, at the hairdresser and with a day at the park, reading in the sunshine.

The following Monday, you received a message to meet with Viggo urgently. In a show of good faith, you responded as quickly as you could, making it a priority after such a messy week beforehand.

“Thank you for being so prompt. You look nice, child.” Viggo gestured for you to sit, and he sighed, “I require your help.”

You did as you were told and sat. “What is it?”

“Iosef has got himself into trouble, and I need you to put a stop to that.” 

Great, you were being expected to help him now, presumably after crushing his fingers a few nights back

“Go on.” You urged Viggo to continue his story, interested at least to see what kind of ‘trouble’ his son was in.

“My son stole a man’s car and killed his puppy. This man is looking for Iosef, and I would like him to put down before he puts down my son.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “This is your sons’ problem. Not mine. A petty trifle, Iosef can deal with it.” 

“Iosef does not stand a chance in hell.” Viggo admitted.

“So he can kill the guy’s puppy but not the guy –“

“It was John Wick’s puppy.”

You froze, breath catching in your throat as you felt your pulse begin to race. “Excuse me?”

“John Wick.” Viggo repeated slowly.

You stood up, hands finding the hem of your suit jacket unconsciously, fingers fumbling as you stepped back from the chair. “This really is Iosef’s problem. I’m not prepared to help. Find someone else.”

“You will do this, Y/N.” It was not a request on Viggo’s part, but there was no way that you could agree to it.

“No, I will not.” You spoke defiantly, “John was a friend.”

“Are you about to refuse an order?”

“I guess I am.” There would be consequences, you knew that there would be consequences.

“What happened that night?” Viggo said flatly.

“I… I’m sorry?”

He knew he had you. “That night five years ago, the night of John’s impossible task. The night you last spoke, the night he said goodbye to you.”

“Nothing.” You lied.

Viggo raised his eyebrows, challenging you, holding your gaze as his fingers curled around the remote control placed meticulously in front of him on his desk. He turned in his chair and pointed it at the television set behind him, pressing play before looking back at you.

Viggo knew you’d say no.

You hadn’t counted on anyone ever knowing. You didn’t think anyone had seen you let alone have evidence on tape, but the place was littered with CCTV, it just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind at the time it happened.

Had Viggo been sitting there watching it in real time? He had made the effort to catalogue it, however he happened across it. _God, it even had sound._

You swallowed and took a deep breath in, blinking absently at the screen, reliving a memory that hurt so much you’d tried to bury for the past five years.

You didn’t care you that you’d been caught red handed, bending backwards over the hood of a parked car with John nestled between your thighs, kissing you passionately as he made love to you.

Watching it unfold in third person on a small screen was like watching something from a movie. You had replayed the scene over in your mind a thousand times before, wondering if it had ever happened at all or if it had been a fever dream.

It was so real.

It was so real that your heart hurt.

You watched the playback of John Wick fucking you and you listened to him calling your name between groans of desperate release.

Much to your disapproval, and regardless of how you tried to fight it, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes.

Then right on cue he said them, the words that had broken you, “I love you. I love you and I always will.”

Viggo paused it, rewound it and pressed play again.

“ _I love you. I love you and I always will._ ”

You felt sick, but you swallowed that feeling hard. 

“I always thought John Wick was an honorable man.” Viggo tutted, looking back at you for a reaction but not receiving one. “How is it that someone who loved you was able to walk away from you and marry another woman?”

“Viggo…” You wondered if he had watched further, to the part where John buckled up, kissed you and left. You remembered pulling on his suit jacket sleeve, begging him to change his mind.

You remembered slumping down against the car afterwards, crying until you could stand up again.

“I don’t care that he fucked you in my warehouse on top of one of my cars, so if you’re about to apologize don’t bother. In fact I rather hope you enjoyed it, but the simple fact remains; how does a man who loves you, leave you behind?”

You’d spent nights wondering this yourself, you’d spent nights wishing you were her instead, you’d spent nights trying to justify it for him, you’d spent nights telling yourself that _he deserved to live peaceful and well._

You’d spent sleepless nights telling yourself that it was your own fault.

“John wanted out, he wanted a life and she has the one other thing that I don’t; freedom.” It was the only answer you had. 

Viggo sighed again. “Not anymore. John Wick’s wife died several weeks ago.”

You felt your stomach flip and shook your head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t need to know. Go and kill John Wick, Y/N, before he kills my son. It might just be the lesson you need. If you don’t, I’ll send someone to put you both in a shallow grave.”


	2. All & then most of you, some & now none of you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viggo has ordered you to kill John Wick before he kills Iosef, but Viggo knows that this is something you're just not prepared to do. Painful memories of the past are stirred up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW - Very mild smut. Lots of hurt & angst.  
> I've written this one quite quickly, so I apologise for any mistakes. Hopefully it reads how I wanted it to.
> 
> Music:  
> Sweetheart What Have You Done To Us - Keaton Henson  
> Bloodstream - Stateless  
> My Love Took Me Down To The River To Silence Me - Little Green Cars

**Then.**

“We shouldn’t do this John.” Your hips bumped against the car hood, the cool, polished surface bending ever so slightly under your weight as John picked you up and placed you down. Your heels found a space between the lights and the bumper to stop you from sliding right off.

His lips peppered kisses in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin every so often, just the way you liked it. He knew all of your little idiosyncrasies; he knew them like he knew the back of his hand. “No one is going to stop us, no one is here.” 

“John…” You whined and wished he’d listen to you, instead his deft hands were unbuckling his belt, the steel clinking adding only to your symphony of secrecy alongside hushed voices and labored breathing.

“You’re not going to get in trouble.”

“John!” You were more assertive this time, protesting with your hands pressed against his chest, it rose and fell rapidly, hungrily. “You’re getting _married_.”

He paused and straightened up, a sigh breaking free from his lips, disappointment painted across his face. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”

“I guess I’m only just starting to realize how fucked up this whole thing is, and how fucked up it has been for a long time.” You bit your lip, not really knowing what else to say. 

It _was_ fucked up. It was _so_ fucked up. Your dynamic wasn’t normal, or at least it was less normal these past few months since he had met _her_. In reality, you’d never accept the person that you were in love with living another life with another person. 

But this was your reality, your life was forfeit to a damn mob boss all because your selfish Father got greedy. You would never get out of this life, but John…

You could see the sadness in his eyes as he searched for answers, answers he knew would never be enough. “That’s why this has to be goodbye.”

“I wish that wasn’t true.” You turned away from him, trying not to show him the inevitable onslaught of tears that were forming in your eyes. They threatened to drown the whole of New York City.

“I know.” John whispered, he stroked your hair gently, tracing the curls as they tangled in his fingers. He touched you as if he was mapping you, as if he was trying not to forget.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, John.”

“Yeah.” He nodded solemnly and went to turn away. “I should go.” 

“No… stop. Come on.” You held either side of his unbuckled belt and dragged him closer to you. “One last time baby, for old times’ sake. Then we say goodbye.”

His lips melted into yours and finally the dam broke as your tears dampened each other’s cheeks. All at once, you felt every last hope drain from your soul; every last flame blow out.

You had been so stupid to believe that your life with John would go any further than this.

Just a few days ago you had found out that john was going to marry her.

He walked into Viggo’s office and half-asked, half-announced that he’d be retiring. If anything, you had given the game away then, when your glass of amber liquor hit the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces.

He’d shot you a look from the corner of his eye and you had left the room in a hurry, rushing out of the warehouse and into the yard. There, you found an old storage crate, and beat your fists against the side of it until they were bloody.

John had found you around fifteen minutes later, sitting on top of the same storage crate outside, smoking a cigarette with shaking hands as you stifled tears.

“Feel like coming down?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Fine. I’ll come up.”

“Rather you didn’t.” You called back. 

He got up by climbing on the back of someone’s car and hoisting himself up to the roof with a gentle grunt.

“Nearly dropped this.” He huffed, handing you a bottle of bourbon before sitting down next to you, swinging his legs over the side of the crate.

You scoffed as your fingers wrapped around the neck, John saw your bloody hands but didn’t pass comment. You wondered if smashing the bottle over his head would be overreacting.

“Here’s to you, I guess.” You pulled the cork, inhaled, and took a large swig before passing the bottle back.

“I’m sorry.” John sighed, drinking with you.

“You’re not.” Your eyes rolled and you looked away from him, not wanting to see those dark eyes, or that perfect beard or his stupidly lovely hair.

“Don’t be like this.” 

“If the boot was on the other foot?” You challenged him, wondering what he would think if it was happening to him instead, if it was his world crumbling down around him, _like someone had just fucking died_.

But he shrugged, playing it cool, pretending it wouldn’t kill him inside. “I’d be happy for you.”

“ _Bullshit._ ” You hissed.

“It’s not.” John said flatly.

There was quiet for a few minutes as you passed the bottle back and forth until it ended up in your hands empty. You held the neck and threw the bottle as far as you could, in the distance you heard it smash.

“When are you leaving?” You asked weakly, finally looking back at him. It hurt as much as you thought it would.

“The day after tomorrow. I have something big to do first, if I don’t die, then I’m out.”

You took a deep breath in, realizing that eventually you would have to accept this. “We’re not going to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay.” He agreed.

“We’re going to pretend that, that…” You pointed over the shoulder to the warehouse, in the direction of Viggo’s office, “It didn’t happen, then when the time comes, you just disappear. Right?”

He exhaled sharply. “If that’s what you want. What about now?”

“Now? Nothing else matters.” You sniffed, your hand finding his, fingers interlocking, squeezing tightly. “What are you doing tonight John?”

“I’ve cleared my schedule for a few days.”

“For us?”

John nodded. “For us.”

“Let’s go for a drive, away from this place.” You sighed, looking at John with your dewy eyes.

He slipped down from the container, knees bending as he landed smoothly on the ground before straightening up and holding his arms out for you.

“I’ll catch you.” He said softly, and he did.

His hands tucked under your arms as you fell into them, he stopped you just before your feet touched the floor and he lowered you carefully. For a moment you just stayed in place, looking at him, looking into those eyes. They reflected the pink and orange sky, glowing as the sun set on the horizon.

Then you pulled him in close, and into his chest, you cried harder than you’d ever cried before.

**Now.**

It felt wrong, but you would do it anyway.

You had worn jeans and a sweater that day, a gun was tucked into a holster around your waist as it always was.

A cool breeze swept through your hair as you approached the front door, while birds sang a lazy melody from the trees surrounding the house in Mill Neck.

It was such a perfect home. The lights from inside created an ambient glow as the sun began to set around you. Sunsets only reminded you of sadness.

You knocked, gentle at first, then harder. There was no answer.

You had to tell him, you couldn’t walk away from here without saying something, and so you tried the door, turning the handle softly and trying not to make a sound.

The door was unlocked. You wondered if retirement was making John careless.

You’d become Alice in an instant, curiouser and curiouser as you moved soundlessly through John’s home. Stopping every so often to look at something, be it an ornament or painting.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself.

It was a picture of John that caught your eye, a picture of John and a woman who could have only been his wife. He was smiling, a smile you’d seen so many times before when it was just you and him.  
It stung, it stung like the sting of a football hitting you in the face on a cold day.

The sound of a gun cocking behind you broke you from your trance.

“What are you doing in my house?” That familiar voice, low and husky, it made the hairs on your neck stand on end and your heart skip.

“Well you made it easy for me, you left the door open John.” You turned slowly; your hands held out on either side of you with your palms flat. A universal symbol that you weren’t a threat.

“Y/N?” There was surprise in his voice, though if you didn’t know him you’d have called it disdain.

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, I’ll put my gun down, will that make you feel better?”

“Not really. I’ve seen you kill a man in many other ways.”

“I’d never hurt you John, that hasn’t changed.” You placed the gun down on the floor in front of you and pushed it away with your foot. John recognized it; it was the handgun he’d bought you for your birthday.

He lowered his gun.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” John remarked, his eyes slowly regarding you from head to toe. Your own did the same, drinking in every detail, his hair, his shape, his lips.

What you wouldn’t give to know him again.

“You look tired.” You said softly. The lines around his eyes were deeper now than they were five years ago, but John aged well, like a fine dark liquor.

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“I’m sorry, John.”

“You’re not, but that’s okay.” He sat down in an armchair close to him, rubbing the lower part of his face in his hands, fidgeting almost. In your imagination, your first meeting again after five years was something else, a great reunion of two lost lovers who fall into one another’s arms like they had never been apart. In reality, it was numb and cold. “So if I was to guess, Viggo sent you.”

“I’m here to warn you John, not kill you.”

“So you go back to him and I show up to kill that asshole son of his, what happens to you.”

You shrugged. “He’s trying to get me to prove who’s side I’m on. So, if I show up and you’re still alive then I’ve disobeyed an order, and I’m already in trouble as it is.”

“What did you do?” John’s eyebrows knitted together, a glint of concern in his expression.

“Lost a deal, lost a lot of money… and not the first time either. He’s testing me, John. He knows I’m not going to kill you.”

“So you just came to warn me? That’s it?” John shook his head, clearly not expecting your visit to be about something so trite as Viggo sending someone after him. To him, that was obvious. Maybe he just hadn’t expected you. “What will you do about Viggo?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“You’d be safer at the Continental.” He was worried, it was obvious.

You sighed, and almost laughed, “I don’t care about dying, John.”

“Why not?”

“I think it’s best I leave.” You scooped up the gun from the floor and placed it back in your holster. “Goodbye John. Good to see you again.” Your shoes clicked as you walked toward the front door, the sound seemed to echo around you, deafeningly loud amidst the silence.

You shouldn’t have gone to Mill Neck. The same emptiness threatened to swallow you up as it had done on that night five years ago, you turned the handle and opened the door.

“Y/N, you can’t show up after five years and just walk away.” John’s hand fell against the door, closing it hastily on you before you could open it any further.

“Isn’t that what you did to me John? You spent four years bedding me in between jobs until it wasn’t convenient for you anymore. I worshipped the ground that you walked on John, loved the bones off you. Just let me leave, it hurts to even look at you.”

“Stop talking.” With that John’s lips met your own again, for the first time in a long time, they kissed you hard and slow. In the heat of it, you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him back.

Of course you wanted to taste him, you wanted that more than anything. Your feet stumbled as he edged you backwards, pinning you against the wall, his hands raking through your hair and his lips as intoxicating as they always had been.

_He was hurting, desperate to feel something_ , you thought, _it wasn’t right_.

It was so hard not to get lost in him, but you couldn’t, not again. You broke your lips away from his kiss

“You piece of _shit_ , John!” You yelled, beating a fist on his chest, and pushing him backwards. He didn’t fight you. “I’m not a stand in for your dead wife.”

“That was never the case. I loved you first, and I never stopped loving you.”

“If that was true you’d never have left in the first place. I’ve spent five years trying to justify it, trying to let you off the goddamn hook, at the end of it all… you were just greedy. Have fun with Iosef and don’t bother looking for me.” You slammed the door behind you as you left, walking at pace down the drive and away from Mill Neck.

The tears came again, and much like before they felt as if they’d never stop.

**Then**

_“Be careful John, mind the car…”_

_“I don’t give a fuck about the car.” He growled as he pressed himself against you, lips desperate to taste you, hands rushing to bare your skin, bodies longing to intertwine…_

_All you could think about was how it would be the last time._

_You held him even more tightly that time, his name escaped your lips more softly and more often than usual, you held his gaze more than you normally would have done. As if any of those things would have made him stay._

_And when it was done, he broke your heart._

_“I love you. I love you and I always will.”_

_There was silence while he regained his composure, and you dressed. He buckled himself back up, picking up the guns he’d left on the floor and rearming himself before he walked away to his ‘impossible task’ and his freedom._

_It was unbearable._

_Your hands closed around his sleeve as he stepped away, and you begged. “Don’t go, John. Please, don’t go.”_

_“I’m so sorry.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading if you did. As always, much love and hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> This is different, I had the idea today and rushed this (sorry if there's any mistakes) but I'm super into this idea and enjoyed writing it. If you like it let me know!


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